


A Line in the Dust

by ishouldwritethatdown



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Espionage, Flirting, M/M, Rescue, Spring Cleaning, a really roundabout way of getting juno and peter to kiss, juno definitely not being worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: Juno isn't worried that he hasn't seen Peter in three weeks. He absolutely does not care where the stupid beautiful thief has disappeared to (spoilers he totally does and he's going to solve his problems like a lady; by repressing them until they're too big to ignore and then shooting someone).





	

Juno felt like an idiot for being worried that his apartment was empty. It was just him and the cobwebs, like always. What was so different about that?

Only, that was different at this point. Nureyev had been found lounging around in his vacant apartment at least once every two weeks for a few months now, ready to start a new adventure. Always dangerous, never simple. Just like him.

But the apartment had been completely thief-less for three weeks, and he knew that for a fact because Nureyev always left a tally in the dust on top of one of his shelves, possibly as a not-so-subtle hint to do some spring cleaning. The first ones had already become indistinguishable with a new layer of dust. Look, it wasn’t Juno’s fault that he never had time to dust the dumb apartment. Especially since Nureyev’s “reminders” were always promptly followed by the proposal for his latest scheme.

Juno couldn’t believe he was at a place in his life where he was worried that his apartment hadn’t been broken into lately. Even thinking about it made him cringe.

Seeing as he didn’t have an actual contact number for Nureyev – besides Vicky’s, and he wasn’t in a rush to get tangled up with her again – Juno couldn’t do much but wait around and hope (He almost gagged at that. God, what had it come to?) that Peter showed up again soon.

He went to bed trying, and failing, to stop thinking about him.

In the morning, once he had given up all semblance of not caring where Peter was, he listened around. He was looking for someone pulling a potential scam, alone, about one week ago. After a superficial glance, he came up with some options and asked Rita to look into each one for anyone looking to get rich quick. She found a hit, and Juno traced Nureyev’s score to a clique of snobbish art collectors that had come into ownership of a series of rare jewelled artifacts.

The cocktail of relief, annoyance and anxiety Juno felt when he found Nureyev strapped to a chair in what was probably a supply closet was disturbing and confusing.

Nureyev had his back to the door, so when it opened, he greeted Juno with, “I hope you brought that hot cocoa I asked for, or I might be forced to give you a bad review.”

Juno rolled his eyes and knelt down to cut the bonds holding his hands behind his back. “No cocoa, but is a laser cutter a good enough substitute?”

Nureyev strained his neck to look behind him, but from the looks of it could only catch Juno in his periphery. “Ah, I see my knight in shining leather has come to my rescue! I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see those pretty eyes of yours again, Detective,” he cooed.

“Quiet, Nureyev, or I might accidentally burn you with this cutter,” Juno threatened.

He chuckled in return, then asked, “Speaking of, are you almost done? I wasn’t aware laser cutters could go blunt.”

Right on cue, the cutter broke through the bonds. Juno tucked it into his pocket while Nureyev stood, exhaled, and straightened the fabric of his suit.

“Right, let’s get the hell out of here,” Juno said, moving towards the closet door.

“Not so fast, dearest, I’ve still got to get what I came for,” Nureyev stopped him smoothly.

“What you- You mean this is a score?”

“Naturally. I can’t think of any other reason I would be strapped to a chair in this environment…” he trailed off. The fox’s smile treaded lightly across his face as his eyes traced the skirting of the ceiling.

“Not like you to screw up so spectacularly,” Juno replied flatly, ignoring his second comment.

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nureyev mused. “That being said, I admit I may have made a slight miscalculation on exactly how much of a grudge Mayousaki would hold about being called a slimy old warthog.”

“Why the hell would you say that?” Juno threw up his arms. This man made absolutely no sense. Nureyev made a face that covered just about the full spectrum of human emotion in less than a second, finishing on a shrug. Juno shook his head and sighed, “What do you need to find, then?”

“Oh, it’s quite magnificent, Juno, I don’t know why I didn’t steal it sooner-“

“What is it?” he interrupted impatiently.

“I’m getting there darling, no need to get touchy,” Nureyev raised his eyebrows. Before Juno could snap something about their time constraints, he continued, “It’s called the Heart of Rubies, and it’s in Vault D downstairs.”

“Great,” Juno replied sardonically, “so let’s go.”

“Oh yes, let’s just skip on down there and we can pluck the Heart right from its stand. Wonderful suggestion, Detective! How on Mars would I survive without your patient guidance?” Nureyev answered theatrically.

Juno made a noise a little too much like a growl and tapped his hand against his leg anxiously. “Are we going to keep wasting time or are you going to tell me the plan?” he asked, blunt.

Nureyev cleared his throat and straightened his back, almost a full head taller than Juno. “Take two lefts, one right, and when the siren goes unlock the red door and wait by the first pillar,” he instructed. “Got that?”

“Left, left, right, siren, red door, first pillar,” Juno repeated. He was unimpressed; did Nureyev honestly expect him just to wait around? There was nothing stopping him from turning him into the HCPD and finally ending the madness that had become of his life.

Except there was, and even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he would never turn Nureyev in. It was always going to be next time.

“Wonderful,” Nureyev replied, and he set off on the right hand corridor. A quick glance down the left and back again, and Peter was already out of sight. As much as Juno criticised his partner in (too often) crime, he certainly did have a way of conveniently disappearing.

Juno followed the instructions he was given, and waited for the siren. Just as he was getting antsy and contemplating going after Nureyev, the claxon blared. Peter had neglected to instruct Juno on how to unlock the red door without a key, but Juno suspected that he was aware of his amateur lockpicking skills and had already carefully fitted this into his plan. The whole thing would still, in true Nureyev style, hinge on a coincidence, but there was nothing to be done about that.

The first pillar wasn’t exactly what Juno had expected. Instead of a supporting beam, he saw a piece of sculpture that seemed to be a man holding up a column with the heels of his hands. This was the only thing in the gigantic – collection? dump? maze? – of artworks behind the red door. If Juno had to guess, the Heart of Rubies was buried somewhere in this mess.

He waited by the pillar for five minutes before hearing rapid, heavy footsteps. He drew his gun warily, then saw a figure zip past one of the rows of art.

“Stop right there, thief! We have you cornered!” a bumbling voice bellowed. Its owner’s footsteps, and an accompanying pair, slowed to a halt. Juno couldn’t see anything in the gap; both parties were either side of it, hidden from view.

“Oh, you’ve run me right into a dead end!” Nureyev cried dramatically. Juno suppressed a sigh at his theatrics. “Not even I could disappear from this sticky situation!”

The louder, heavier guard stepped forward, a premature grin on his face. Juno struck him in the neck with the stun setting of his gun, always the perfect marksman. When the other guard spun to address the new attacker, Nureyev tackled them and knocked them unconscious.

“So did you get it?” Juno asked, approaching Peter and holstering his weapon.

“What do you take me for, Juno?” Nureyev responded, stage-hurt.

Juno grunted an answer and then looked around him at the stacks of art. Pieces were quite literally stacked into walls in places. “It was in here?”

“Gosh, no,” he replied. “We’d have been searching for days. We’re in here because it’s a convenient place to stash a motorcycle.” Just like that, he plucked the bike from where it had camouflaged with all the junk around it, and hopped on. Seeing Juno’s partly awed, partly frustrated look, he just grinned.

Once the hectic art maze was over, losing the remaining straggling guards was no problem. With the wind whipping his jacket and sweat melding his gun to his hand, Juno felt like this should be the exact opposite of relaxing. And yet, he could still catch whiffs of Nureyev’s cologne, and feel the confident snarl of the bike’s engine under his guidance. He had never felt more at home.

Nureyev didn’t disappear after he parked the bike outside Juno’s apartment back in his part of Hyperion City. Instead, he accompanied him up, actually using the goddamn door for once in his life, and casually made his way over to the shelf. With his index finger and a grin, he drew the tenth line in the dust.

Before he even had a chance to send any words out of his poised mouth, Juno told him, “Shut the hell up.” He threw off his jacket, took three strides towards his thief, raised himself onto his toes, and kissed Peter Nureyev’s beaming mouth like he’d been starved of a necessity for months.


End file.
